


Always

by Dimou



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, I have no idea what I'm doing, Inspired by Music, M/M, The feels, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 21:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6536104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dimou/pseuds/Dimou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basti loves Lukas. Lukas loved Basti.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> I might be known as a Hömmels writer on this site, but the ship that first got me into the football fandom was Schweinski, back in the stone age or whenever it was that they started playing together. As the coming summer may likely be the last time they ever get to play together, I decided to this sort of a tribute for them. 
> 
> This little thing has been sitting on my draft folder for months, and I finally decided it was time to properly out it. It's very different to what I usually do, but then it's good to step out of the comfort zone every now and then, right? Writing this was a very fun little "exercise", hope you enjoy it too :)
> 
> The story is partly based on a [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=va_4sd-KATc). The second chapter contains the original lyrics, and my meager translation attempt. Not one of my talents, I've come to realise. This story also, very loosely, inspired the birth of Color Therapy, as those who had read both works may see. So yes, this really is super old :D

Basti walked down the street, his head buzzing. He had, once again, been drinking a tad too much, drowning the memories, filling the empty holes, gathering strength to keep on smiling.

He had had one of the best days in a long time, spending it in the best company imaginable, but as it was inevitable in these kinds of gatherings, the sting would come with the laughter. As the evening would linger, the trips down on memory lane would start, as the night would fall the company would return to their normal lives again, leaving behind emptiness, an echo, an unbearable pain.

So he would do the same thing he always did when he didn't want to listen to the thoughts in his head too intently. He got his brain into a state where it wasn't able to produce them.

***

”Hey, you okay, man?”

Basti fights against the slur, fights against the overwhelming need to vomit. Fights to crack open at least one of his eyes to make more sense of the situation he is in this time. There is a man crouching over him. That's about all the information he can gather. His vision isn't the best right now, he has no idea what the man looks like, if he even knows him. He can't decipher if the man is concerned or annoyed or about to mug him or what.

Basti squints, turns his face away from the man who is just too close to get a clear view at. He takes a look of his surroundings instead, with no better luck. There is something blocking his view on either side of him. Basti raises his hand to touch the big lumps of grey. They are rough below his hand, cold and wet too.

Now that he starts to think about it more, he feels rather rough, cold and wet all over. Everywhere except in front of him. There is soft, warm, dry.

The man has kept on talking to him, but Basti hasn't listened. Hasn't been able to follow up. The man touches him, spreading the warmth further. Basti lets himself enjoy it.

***

The people left, in pairs or in ones to get home to their other halves. Left to get back to their normal lives, to the constant, static, unchanging string of happy events. To their families, to their houses, to their jobs, to their routines. To a place where grief never visited.

Basti would get back to his life, where change was the only constant. He would search someone tonight, spend the night with them, only to search someone new tomorrow. It didn’t satisfy him, they didn’t satisfy him. None of them could ever reach the level he was looking for, compare to what had once been, but that was okay. They weren't meant to. He just needed temporary distraction.

Basti saw the pity in the eyes of his friends, the people that he knew. Some, people who didn't know all the facts, went even as far as resentment, but he ignored it as far as he could. They couldn't understand anyway.

***

The first thing Basti wants to do when he wakes up is groan. So he does, long and low and whiny. It eases the headache a bit, at least he likes to pretend it does. Next item on his list is watching the time and figuring out if he should just sleep some more before he can even think about doing something remotely productive, like showering or eating or getting some pants on.

He stares at the wall for a full minute before realising there is no clock there. In fact it isn't even his bedroom wall. That's rather strange, since he clearly remembers leaving the bar alone, walking home, seeing the bright red of his building's door –

And not finding his keys once there. In his drunken moment of brilliance he had decided to spend the night outside, perched up in the corner of the wall and the staircase. Someone had come to his rescue. Basti had not recognised him at the moment. Hopefully it would not be anyone embarrassing.

Knowing his luck in situations like these, Basti isn't even surprised that his saviour is his smoking hot neighbour, to whom he had a pathetic crush on. The guy was not only a pleasure for the eye, he was good for the rest of the body too, entering the room and delivering Basti a big glass of water and painkillers.

”Hey, feeling alright? Not about to throw up?”

Basti takes the offered remedy, shaking his head while taking large gulps of the water.

”Good. You did not look too swell last night.”

”Yeah, thanks,” Basti says wearily. He is a bit taken back with how easily and friendly the neighbour treats him, like they've been friends for ages. In truth they have only changed pleasantries every now and then in the corridor, but that was is. Now he was on the guy's couch, taking painkillers from him and whatnot. Maybe he ought to explain himself some.

”I lost my keys.”

Hot And Dandy starts laughing, full on blaster of noise and cringing eyes and holding his stomach like it was about to explode from the violent sound. Okay.

”Oh, you did not lose your keys. Your ability to use your senses, yeah maybe, but not your keys.”

Basti looks confused, sees how the guy, still giggling, reaches for the coffee table and lifts a set of keys from it. His keys.

”I tried to tell you that you had them on your hands the whole time, but you just insisted you lost them. Poor guy, sitting in a puddle next to his front door, too drunk to realise you could’ve just walked inside too. I decided to bring you here, thought I would be charged with negligent homicide or something if I let you in to your place on your own like that.”

”I was sitting in a puddle?” Yes, that was what Basti decided to concentrate on.

”Yeah, you were all wet. I made you change into my clothes so you wouldn't catch a cold.”

They had exchanged pleasantries every now and then in the corridor, but that was it. Now Basti was wearing the guy's clothes.

***

Most of the days he could handle it. And on days when he couldn't, he found something to distract himself with. He needed something to do with his hands, with his mouth, otherwise he would dial Lukas' number, talk to him. Basti couldn't do that, not when he knew that Lukas had the one thing he wanted. Basti would not be the one to cause misery to Lukas, let him doubt his choices, make him decide between two things.

For Lukas' sake, Basti would find other company. It didn't really matter who the company was, they weren't going to stay in Basti's life. He wasn't always proud of his choices, of his actions, but he saw it as a necessary sacrifice. It helped Lukas to stay ignorant and it helped Basti to stay sane. At least during those brief moments he was thinking about something else than Lukas.

***

Basti leans on to Lukas for extra support. He laughs, laughs like only Lukas was able to make him, needing so much energy to do it that it was all away from his leg muscles, threatening to make him collapse. Lukas holds him, like only Lukas knows how to hold him. Strong, confident, sharing everything of him with Basti.

Gradually Basti calms down, only little giggles escaping anymore. He keeps on leaning against Lukas, lets his head drop to Lukas' shoulder too. Lets his hand rise up, almost taking a grip of Lukas' shirt, almost pressing his palm against Lukas' chest. Suddenly he is dead serious.

”Basti?” Lukas asks tentatively.

Basti shies away, hides his face on to the crook of Lukas' neck, but doesn't break the contact between them.

”Basti, I want it too.” Lukas lays his hand on Basti’s head, tucks loose hair behind his ear. Basti raises his head in confusion. Lukas takes hold of his chin now.

”You said something once when you had taken a few. I didn't know if you meant it so I never talked about it. But yeah. I want it too.”

Lukas gently lifts Basti's chin, so that it's easier for him to press his mouth on Basti's. He lets Basti get used to the feeling, lets him get past the initial shock, before he starts moving his lips. Basti reciprocates. For once he is glad he was an honest drunk.

***

Whenever the booze and the women couldn't help muffle his thoughts, Basti took out to the streets, started wandering around. He would walk seemingly aimlessly, taking random turns, buried deep in his thoughts. More often than not, his strolls took hours, and by the end of them, he would find himself in front of a surprisingly comfortable staircase, a door so vibrantly red that time hadn’t managed to fade it. A home where he once lived. A building he once shared with Lukas.

When everything else was muffled, mild, murky, the door stayed red.

***

”I don't know, Basti. I have to visit Poland too. I – I actually have a girlfriend there.”

Basti is too shocked to even get angry. So Lukas wouldn't be spending the Easter with Basti and his parents, because he has a girlfriend back in Poland. Okay.

”I'm sorry. It doesn't mean anything. It's just that in Poland people aren't gay, they just aren't.”

Basti believes him. It's hard not to. It's physically impossible for him to be mad at Lukas. Even if Lukas had left Poland with every intention to return there one day, with another life waiting for him there, Basti couldn't be mad. Not at him, not ever at Lukas.

Especially not when during the sleepless nights, between the dark yesterday and bright tomorrow, when everything else than just the two of them seized existing, when even the time itself stopped, Lukas would hold him until everything was alright again. Lukas would tell him that the girlfriend was just something his family wanted. That it wasn't real love like with Basti.

In the grey light between dusk and dawn Lukas' blue, blue eyes are the only colour that shows true and Basti believes everything he says.

Basti believes when Lukas talks about moving back to Poland after university, when Lukas starts to spend all his holidays in Poland. Basti decides to believe even when Lukas speaks about having a family. In Germany they could do that, together.

He believes, he hopes.

***

”Hey, how's it going?”

”You know, same old same old.”

”Good, good.”

”And how's your life?”

”Great, just great.”

”And Louis?

”Oh, Louis is wonderful, he's learning new words every day.”

”He's talking already? Oh wow, he's so big, can't believe how fast he grows.”

”Yeah, he runs like a maniac too.”

”Ha, yeah, I saw the video you put in Facebook. Great little man.”

”He truly is. You should come see him sometime.”

”Yeah, and you can come visit too every time you're in Germany.”

”Totally. Gosh, it's been ages since I've seen you. Or even talked to you.”

”Well, you know how it is. You have your family now, and I'm looking for a job and everything. It takes time.”

”Yeah, I know. But we should definitely make this catching up more regular.”

”Definitely.”

They hadn’t lost touch completely, but they would never be as close anymore as they had been. They would never catch up more regularly, they would never have a casual, care-free conversation. Basti didn’t mind, because he knew he was already getting more than he deserved. Even these little, meaningless conversations left him elated for days. Just hearing Lukas speak, his deep and grumbling voice, brought back all those memories.

The memories were all that he had, was going to have, so he embraced them.

***

”I'm going to be a dad.”

***

Even though the pain was still raw, after years of slowly feeling his heart shrink and char in the torturing onslaught the memories gave him, Basti would not give any of it back. If he would be given the chance of Lukas-free life, Basti would dismiss it in an instant. He would always think that Lukas was the best thing that ever happened to him. It didn't last long, but that just maybe made it that much sweeter. His life might be miserable most of the time, but when he thought about Lukas smiling at him, it seemed that much brighter.

It was an ache that never dulled. A wound that ripped open every single day. Bleeding in time with his heartbeat. But at least he knew he was still alive.

***

The day that Lukas leaves is the saddest one of Basti's life. Lukas stands in the doorway, suitcases next to him on both sides, a backpack in his feet. Lukas looks remorseful, doesn't lift his gaze from the floor to see Basti's tears. They don't hug, but it's a good thing, because Basti wouldn't have let go if he ever got hold of Lukas again.

Lukas takes his bags, turns around, leaves. Never looks back.

Everything where Lukas once was is now empty, a visual memory for Basti, screaming that something is missing here. The part where Lukas was in Basti's heart is now a black hole, sucking all the light from the universe.

With the light, everything else goes too. Basti doesn't smell, taste, see or feel much of anything. There's not much point in eating, sleeping, but he does them anyway mechanically. There's not much point in laughing, so he doesn't.

The apartment that was once theirs, the things that were once theirs, the friends that they once shared are now just Basti's. The life that was once theirs is now only Basti's life. Lukas has his own life in Poland, with his wife and son.

Lukas promises to stay in touch but Basti knows he won't. And Basti isn't mad at him, because he won't stay in touch with Lukas either. It's for the best, for the both of them. Lukas has something other to concentrate on now and Basti needs to find the same for himself too.

Basti needs to let Lukas go, forget him, let him have what he wants.

***

He should consider himself lucky really. Many people spent years chasing that feeling, never finding it. There were people who had lost their belief that there was only one right person for everyone. He had found his true love. He had had the uttermost pleasure of spending time with him for a full year, bask in the sunlight he radiated, absorb the energy and joy and love Lukas seemed to drop down everywhere he went.

Even in his death bed he could still think he had lived a happy life, he had been loved. He could die with a smile on his face, thinking about the first time he and Lukas kissed.

He had flown around a lot, none of his partners rising to the same level that Lukas had been. But that was all right, because they were not even supposed to. He only hoped that Lukas would be able to forgive him.

Even though the memories, thinking about Lukas gave Basti constant pain, he would not regret it. He would not regret them.

***

Basti walks down the street, his head buzzing, from the alcohol, the memories, the waking city around him. From life. 


	2. Chapter 2

Netflix-sarjoja, Syön purkista,   
Voisin siivota, mut kenen takia?   
Kahvi laimeeta, tänäkin aamuna.   
Mitähän sulle, mahtaa kuulua? 

En ehkä osaa sulle puhua,   
Jos annetaan ajan kulua, Mut kirjoitan susta lauluja,   
Vielä kakstuhattakaheksankyt-luvulla   
Sun flanellii haluun lainata,   
Pikkupäissään kesäiltana,   
Mulla on ikävä sua, vielä   
Kakstuhattakaheksankyt-luvulla. 

Viikonloppuna, pakko valvoa.   
En haluu olla, yksin aamulla.   
Taas pariskunnat menee baarista kotiin,   
Ensi viikosta ne keskenään sopii,   
Mä en laita viestii, käännän kovempaa mun   
Musiikkii. 

En ehkä osaa sulle puhua,   
Jos annetaan ajan kulua,   
Mut kirjotan susta lauluja, vielä   
Kakstuhattakaheksankyt-luvulla,   
Sun flanellii haluun lainata,   
Pikkupäissään kesäiltana,   
Mulla on ikävä sua, vielä   
Kakstuhattakaheksankyt-luvulla. 

Anna anteeksi jos mä oon kummallinen   
Tai koitan muuttua, älä halveksi jos näät   
Kun pussailen, pilkun jälkeen pihalla.   
Ainakun en, mä melkein soitan. 

En ehkä osaa sulle puhua,   
Jos annetaan ajan kulua,   
Mut kirjotan susta lauluja, vielä   
Kakstuhattakaheksankyt-luvulla.   
Sun flanellii haluun lainata,   
Pikkupäissään kesäiltana,   
Mulla on ikävä sua, vielä   
Kakstuhattakaheksankyt-luvulla. 

En ehkä osaa sulle puhua,   
Jos annetaan ajan kulua, Mulla on ikävä sua, vielä   
Kakstuhattakaheksankyt-luvulla.

***

Netflix series, eating out of the box  
I could clean up, but no one’s visiting  
Bland coffee, on this morning too  
I wonder how you are doing

I might not know what to say to you  
if we let time pass, but I will write songs about you  
even on the 2080’s  
I want to borrow your flannel  
on a drunken summer night  
I will miss you, even  
on the 2080’s

Weekend, have to stay up  
I don’t want to be alone in the morning  
Again the couples leave the bar to go home  
Making plans of the next week  
I don’t text, I turn up the volume of my  
music

I might not know what to say to you  
if we let time pass, but I will write songs about you  
even on the 2080’s  
I want to borrow your flannel  
on a drunken summer night  
I will miss you, even  
on the 2080’s

Please forgive me if I’m acting strange  
or trying to change, don’t despise me if you see  
me snogging outside after the last call  
Always when I’m not, I almost call

I might not know what to say to you  
if we let time pass, but I will write songs about you  
even on the 2080’s  
I want to borrow your flannel  
on a drunken summer night  
I will miss you, even  
on the 2080’s

I might not know what to say to you  
if we let time pass, I will miss you, even  
on the 2080’s


End file.
